


Of Thieves and Thrones

by EtherealOmega



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Slight Alternate Universe - Cannon Divergence, casteshipping - Freeform, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 16:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11211483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtherealOmega/pseuds/EtherealOmega
Summary: Two opposites made one for a short time. A vignette into the closeness woven by two outcasts of different standing bringing peace to one another. Thieves and thrones are never meant to mix yet Atemu and Akefia Bakura can't seem to find peace anywhere but in one another.Warning for "major fluffiness" and the fact that this is my first ever Yu-Gi-Oh! fanfiction. I think it turned out decently enough though.





	Of Thieves and Thrones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gaybreadstick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaybreadstick/gifts).



> I follow this amazing and amusing human being on tumblr and saw them saying there wasn't enough fluff in the casteshipping section of fanfiction. I know they wrote their own piece, but it sparked me to want to make this for them and any other casteshippers even if I'm not that into this couple. Hope you all enjoy, and I hope to hear from any of you who read it all the way through. Criticism, Kudos, and Comments in general are my lifeblood when it comes to writing. Anywhos! Enjoy~

A young thief robed in ruby stood within sight of the palace walls, his garb symbolic of the one constant which haunted him throughout his young life: blood. While his life began in peace it soon chattered into something bloodstained and malignant. Those on high had decreed it after all. Gore, sweat, tears, adrenaline, and fire red rage permeated his years as did the gold alongside all things which glittered. Eventually that metal would be all he’d crave, not even food or carnal desired could surmount that lust. However, many years from his beginnings, he found something far more priceless than gold to covert. First it would come in the form of rose-gold. A cold hope for vengeance finally fulfilled by a young boy bound in rose-gold. Though how it came would not be how it remained for via late nights spent at war with himself, Bakura witnessed it morph into something much more magnificent. Something brilliant. Finally he understood why others told him “not all that glitters is gold,” and despite how he’d wander forever, never again would he be lost.

* * *

A young ruler sat within his palace draped in the color of kings. The rich purple speaking to a childhood spent in riches and the jewelry of tainted gold binding his form to the shackles forever to bind his soul to the gods. A deity set high above the rest of mankind in the eyes of most, Atemu was the most human of them all merely subjected to most disguised laws than any others. Taught humility by his father yet brought up in bride by his priests, he knew not whom he should become. Mixing the bright flares of ego and the dulled hues of humbleness into a pleasing palate became a challenge nigh impossible for a boy forever locked within stone walls. This struggle would consume his years till Fate placed someone in his path to build a counterbalance for within himself. The young pharaoh grew into the humility born of conceited waste meant to slow the spread of vindictive pride risen from the ashes of a humble beginning lost to genocide. Though he’d be trapped forevermore, his soul would forever be freed.

* * *

 As slipper-clad feet navigated winding corridors, those trapped within sandals left dust storms in their wake. Silver steel flashed over tall walls to find a purchase for its master’s bidding while tainted gold reached out to open the passage to well-guarded solitude. Faded burgundy tore through the wind and hid restlessly cloaked in shadows, meanwhile vivid violet fell to the floor forgotten till the morn. Two worlds were mere minutes from colliding yet until then one thrilled itself in evading deadly detection and the other settled for a few moments of peace far from weighty judgements. A king of thieves knelt, panting in a hidden alcove, his grin wide despite the ragged breaths. The surge of besting those proclaimed as servants of the gods never ceased to thrill him. A mortal deity knelt, praying before an altar dedicated to the gods. A gentle breeze began within his spirit to life the burden of his shackles for a time; it had always been like this, the calm before his grey haired storm came upon him. Both ashen and mulberry eyes lifted adoringly towards something as yet unseen but soon to be found.

* * *

 The cool winds caress twisted into nearly icy claws across scarred flesh at the prompting of the sweat upon its surface. The familiarity of it all forced the bandit to swallow a whistled tune as his fingers instinctively sought out memorized handholds. _It’s like a ritual of cleansing, before reaching for him, some of my dust from crime must be shed.._ Gently, his lips curved at the thought and though the silver male’s expression of peace would be seen by and admitted to none, he indulged himself by shutting his eyes and releasing a single handhold. Hanging gracelessly into open space he savored the calm shamelessly before the humor of it all slipped in. How he felt more stable here a breath away from plummeting through air than he ever did upon the ground was almost ridiculous. So a soft chuckle rumbled through a sun kissed chest before beginning the last stretch of the climb. Moments later calloused digits gripped the balcony’s rail, the thief intaking a deep breath in the process. The most nerve-wracking moment was upon him and he dove into it headfirst. His muscles burned with the full weight of his body yet Bakura reveled in the reminder of pain as he pulled himself over the barrier. Once more, his feet found solid ground and despite the danger past his heart refused to calm its hammering tempo.

 The faint clinking of metal set upon metal rang in his ears but it was the boy before him who held his attention. A back unmarred by strife remained bared to him in a sign of trust no others would dare show. His heart ceased to beat or an instant when vibrant eyes turned upon him. As the younger Egyptian crossed the room, the air from the thief king’s lungs rushed out, and when the hand reached out for him, he flinched away without thought. “Sh… It’s me Bakura…” Distant was the voice which called to him and again as the hand came he balked, the scar upon his cheek searing at the touch of memory. “..Akefia.. It’s me not them. You’re safe here with me.” Akefia – that was a name only those long dead still called him in the recesses of his own mind. Then smooth fingers acted as balm to sooth the tension hiding within his frame. Grey eyes opened meeting someone too kind to represent the terror of the throne this boy represented.

Then again, in this moment, they did not stand there are ruler and bandit. They stood together as two youths thrust into a world not their own at too young an age, as two children long removed from society and made outcasts. Despite seeming so different to any others whom may glimpse them, these two were one and the same safe for the paths they walked, and the sole survivor of the fabled Kul Elna could find some measure of comfort in that.

“I know, Atemu.”

A soft noise of confusion parted thin lips whilst a rumble bubbled past chapped ones briefly before they brushed against a tender palm. Another sound of mirth joined Bakura’s though this one lighter than its drier cousin. It sent a thrill down the survivor’s spine reminding him of better days left behind. So, when those hands cupped his jaws pulling his scarred cheek against feathery lips, the only way he could respond was with a caress of his own. That same cheek nuzzled deep into the side of a rarely exposed neck while hardened pads ran delicate along tanned skin. His pharaoh’s small purr was reward enough for the struggle within his soul for his touch to remain forgiving. _Forgiveness… This must be what that feels like._ His words remained silently ensconced in his mind as he allotted only a contented huff to escape him at the sweet nothings brushing through shaggy hair.

Atemu guided the older boy to the bed slowly within lines tracing over pale upon chestnut. The crisscross of faded memory had always fascinated him after all though the reason still evaded Akefia. Neither could speak for how long they lingered in their own world hidden under soft sheets and each other’s arms. It was unknown how long they spent slowly giving pieces of themselves away to one another cloaked in the minor shroud of innocence they could impart, but those two held no care for it. The treasured every second of it for they knew not even for the best of things was eternity feasible. Eventually all things returned from whence they came just as on day both the kings of differing providence were destined to: glory to glory and ashes to ashes.

However, for those moments they could steal away, for that night, what they had in one another was far more than enough. This concealed worship of reverence long divided from rationality filled with adoration, praise, and precious caress could be enough. _Perhaps even for all eternity,_ Akefia whispered to the emptiness of his own soul, and though staying forever or even till dawn’s light was an impossible feat the master thief would remain a time longer protecting the young god with the fortress of his arms. At least until the beloved one’s breath slowed into the promise of peaceful dreams.


End file.
